


surrender

by yesterday



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quickies, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4747550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesterday/pseuds/yesterday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now, isn't this a chance for a nice team-bonding experience? I know you're very fond of those, Mizuki-san," Virus says, curling his hand over Mizuki's hip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	surrender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [warfare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/warfare/gifts).



"Now, isn't this a chance for a nice team-bonding experience? I know you're very fond of those, Mizuki-san," Virus says, curling his hand over Mizuki's hip.

"That's right," Trip says, and Mizuki can _hear_ the shit-eating grin on his face from over his shoulder. "It's bonding."

He's plastered to Mizuki's back, fingers fucking into him deep and slow. It burns because there's nothing but spit slicked on them and the air hitting his bare skin has Mizuki gritting his teeth. Or maybe that's because he's stuck between these two assholes, hovering on his knees over Virus's lap, the wood of the waist-high, abandoned crate leaving slivers on his skin as he's blocked in from behind by Trip. This situation has his teeth on edge as it is, but from the alley adjacent to this one, he can hear Dry Juice members (what remains of them) milling around and talking, and the last thing he wants is for one of them to walk in on this. 

"What the hell about this is a bonding experience?" Mizuki grinds out. Virus and Trip exchange glances, chuckles breaking out between them. Goosebumps rise over Mizuki's skin. 

"Perhaps calling it a condition that comes with joining Morphine would be more accurate," Virus says pleasantly, adjusting his glasses. 

"Initiation?" Trip suggests, twisting his fingers roughly in Mizuki in a way that has him biting down on his tongue to stifle his gasp. Unfortunately from Virus's point of view, little is missed. Not that the telltale twitch of Mizuki's cock wouldn't have said just the same thing. Virus smiles, a perfect, sharp crescent that's absolutely humourless.

"I don't give a damn," Mizuki snaps out, "Just get this over with already, quit fucking around." 

"Did you hear that, Trip?" Virus seizes Mizuki in a too-tight grip, running his thumb over the head of his cock and digging his nail into the slit. It _hurts_ , Mizuki thinks, good. It should hurt. "Mizuki-san is in a rush."

"Then I guess that means I should hurry things up?" Trip muses, pulling his fingers out from Mizuki. Mizuki holds his breath, but no amount of anticipation for what's coming next makes it any easier when Trip pushes into him, grabbing hold of his hips from Virus and grunting when he's all the way in. He sets a relentless pace, fucking into Mizuki in fast, almost impossibly deep thrusts, jostling him on Virus's lap. 

A muffled groan escapes him before a coppery taste floods his mouth, lip splitting open from the effort it takes to keep quiet. There's heat pooling in his stomach, rising up to his throat and burning until Mizuki can't tell what he's feeling, pain and disgust and hate and pleasure blurring into one as his body betrays him and starts to get hard as Virus strokes his hand up his cock at a languorous pace in comparison to Trip, his eyes burning into Mizuki.

"My, my." Virus's voice is full of false concern that Mizuki ignores until he feels a touch at his throat, cool fingertips dragging over his tattoo and up to brush away the blood trickling down his chin. "Did you bite yourself, Mizuki-san? Is Trip being too rough with you? Ah, but you _did_ say you're in a hurry. So please bear with it."

"Shut-- up," Mizuki says hoarsely, nails scraping the concrete as he hunches forward and tries to keep his balance. Trip feels impossibly big, filling him over and over without any particular finesses apart from a particular persistence. 

"He's tight," Trip comments. 

Virus raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Show me."

"Sure." Pulling Mizuki along with him as easily as anyone would a ragdoll (Trip is terrifying strong), Trip replaces the spot Virus vacates on the crate, sitting Mizuki squarely on his dick. It takes everything he has to hold in the whimper that strains to leave his throat when the change in position rests Trip's cock perfectly against his sweet spot. Trembling, Mizuki breathes out in ragged gasps, watching Virus as he steps forward to pull his pants free from his ankle. They drop to the ground. 

"Mizuki-san," Virus prompts, and Mizuki knows what he wants. Grabbing the backs of his thighs, he pulls his knees in towards his chest, face hot. At the same time, Trip lifts him with his bruising grip on his hips, easing him off his cock and then back down with excruciating slowness. Virus watches, and Mizuki stares fixedly at a point over his shoulder on the dirty wall. 

"Does it hurt, Mizuki-san?" he asks, smiling. Mizuki doesn't answer him. Virus doesn't seem to care either way. "Remember, Trip. We're all on a schedule here." 

"Right, right." At the reminder, Trip picks up his speed again, his breath hot and loud at Mizuki's ear as he buries himself in Mizuki over and over again. 

"Actually," Virus muses, "I rather think Mizuki-san is enjoying himself. It seems like he's taking you rather well, but of course, I'd need a better look to be certain. If you will, Mizuki-san."

"I," Mizuki starts, and then his head falls against his chest when Trip hits his prostate at the perfect angle and the rest of his words become a strangled moan. There's a quiet tut from Virus, Virus who is standing prim and proper in his suit and tie and pushing Mizuki's thighs apart, holding them apart. His eyes gravitate down from the clenched set of Mizuki's jaw, to his bare stomach where his shirt has ridden up, to his cock that jumps and flushes with each thrust. 

"Don't be shy." Smiling, Virus squeezes Mizuki's leg. "After all, we'll be just like family soon, won't we?" 

Something in Mizuki snaps, his eyes flying open. The expression Virus wears is inscrutable, and Mizuki labours to breathe through his nose. He doesn't know how long they stare at each other before he's sliding his hands further down, spreading his ass with his hands so Virus can get a good look at how Trip slides in and out of him. 

Virus croons, skirting his thumb around Mizuki's hole and then reaching up to grasp his cock firmly once more, briskly pumping his hand up and down and Mizuki sobs in relief, desperately jerking his hips into his hand. 

"Ah, not too loud now." There's something twisted in the smile Virus is wearing. "Or would you like to be found out? Perhaps you enjoy being watched, Mizuki-san. You're certainly... excited as it is." 

Trip crams two fingers into his mouth into Mizuki's mouth before he can answer, the taste of them flooding his senses. Mizuki nearly gags, but he doesn't bite down. The fingers muffle his staccato gasps. Squeezing his eyes shut, his abdomen tightening more and more as Virus touches him and Trip works him from behind until he cums all over Virus's hand and the front of his shirt with a garbled shout. Dimly, he's aware of Trip grunting against his ear and pounding into him through the last tremors of his orgasm until he rubs his cum against Mizuki's insides thoroughly before pulling out. 

Mizuki remembers moving mechanically after that, hauling himself off Trip's lap and flopping onto the crate, a half dressed mess of disheveled and dirty clothing, and dripping cum. Breathing heavily as both Virus and Trip straighten themselves up without a word, he wipes at his face shakily with the back of his hand. 

As the two of them turn to leave, Virus pauses and smirks at Mizuki over his shoulder. "We look forward to you joining Morphine soon, Mizuki-san."

Later that evening as he's standing beneath the spray of his shower, skin is rubbed red, and the hot water's long since gone cold, he tells himself that this is for them. It's for Dry Juice, for his family. But the words Virus spoke echo over and over in Mizuki's head until the only one stays and runs in an infinite, endless loop.

Morphine.

**Author's Note:**

> one day i will write you proper vitrimizu(ao???)


End file.
